Not the dancing type
by El loopy
Summary: He'd told her he wasn't the dancing type. Possible missing scene from episode 125. Gajeel x Levy. Oneshot.


Not the dancing type

He'd told her he was not the dancing type, and that was true, but he just couldn't stand to see those two goons mooning over her. Fighting over her. Idiots. What had they been doing for seven years? Pining was all. Letting themselves go. Doing the opposite of wasting away in one case.

She was better than both of them. Hell, she was too good for _him_ , and he was better than the two of them put together. He had proved that once, but it wasn't a memory he cared to visit or remember. He'd hurt her then too. His memory flinched like a touch on a bruise. They had done an unacceptable job of stopping him and protecting her. They were not worthy of her (not that he was) so like hell he was going to let them dance with her.

She'd scowled the whole while, dancing angrily. He couldn't understand it. She'd agreed to dance with him. It was her own fault if he had ruined her enjoyment of something she wanted to do. She'd agreed…His protest felt weak. The thought still nudged and bothered away at him, twisting and turning on his insides. He didn't want to ruin anything for her anymore.

This Guildhall was smaller than the last. It was far too easy not to lose someone and sure enough he rounded the corner in the setting sun and there she was, perched atop a fence, watching it go down. Her bare feet swung lazily, and he stopped, frozen for a moment, struck by how beautiful she looked in the golden haze. For them only a little time had passed since Tenrou, where she'd run from him in anger and hurt, and he'd rescued her, before she'd helped him back to camp, half-dead. Apparently, she'd kicked some serious Purgatory butt whilst he'd been unconscious. He wished he could have seen it.

Levy dropped her head from the sky as she sensed his presence and her expression clouded over.

"Oh."

Gajeel hesitated before the words came almost unbidden, twisting out his mouth.

"I…erm…look, about earlier." His voice became gruffer, closing him off. "Its not personal or nothin'. I'm just not the dancing type."

Levy nodded once, sharp. "You said."

Gajeel looked away, focusing on anything but her.

"Yeah, well," he rubbed the back of his neck, unaccountably flustered. "Just wanted to say again, in case you expected more. You know, with it being awful."

He heard the anger in her voice as she replied, and he looked back at her sharply.

" _I_ didn't think it was awful." Her face was flushed, eyes burning hotly.

He folded his arms.

"Then what was with the sour look?"

Her expression became even angrier than he'd thought possible. He did get a kick out of it, seeing her get all fired up. Seeing the fight in her. That wasn't the point now though. He remained composed, trying to appear bored. Like he didn't care. He was an expert at it.

"I just don't enjoy dancing with someone who doesn't want to dance with me."

That got a reaction from him.

"Who says I don't want to dance with you?"

He scowled. His credits were on those two goons.

"It was obvious," she answered coolly, voice like ice. Aww hell. He wasn't having this.

"I told ya, it ain't you. I just ain't the dancing type."

"Dancing type," she said at the same time. He felt a chill. Her magic was in words. Speaking simultaneous with her, their voices intertwining, he'd felt the edge of her magic on his skin, razor sharp.

"So, you're saying you want to dance with me?" she demanded.

Gajeel averted his eyes and folded his arms. "Yes." He said it sulkily.

"All right," she challenged, "prove it." She jumped down from the fence to stand in front of him. There was a gleam of determination in her eyes as she held out a hand to him.

"Dance with me now."

His gaze rolled over her; from her blue hair edged in sunset gold, to her bare feet in the grass.

"Won't make me dance any better," he said with a suppressed smile.

"I don't care."

He tilted his head to one side and then, as much to see the shock on her face as her smile, placed his hand lightly around hers. His roughen digits swamped hers entirely as he gently curled his fingers around, feeling that satisfying completeness of her hand clasped wholly in his.

"C'mon then. Let's dance."


End file.
